Moon Goddess! wi' silver sandalsDescending the trellis of the starsUnto the Earth's rim, that thouDost traverse the shadowed ways-What is thy witchery?Lo, methinks thou art a phantom weaver,For the night is but the spirit of the day.Aye, and nothing in her shadowed hoursIs real, nor openly announced.Lo, moon Goddess! night descends,That curtained mystery which wouldMislead man, making his heartTo quake in fear of oblivion-and thou,Descending upon a merciful errand,Dost bid the phantom go-Causing the shadows to spring,Peopling the earth with phantomry,Mellowing man's heart till it becomesAs a harp strung with golden strings,Waiting the touch of tomorrow,That it give forth a softened melody.